


But I Just Love to Pick a Fight

by Avery_Kedavra



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Bonding, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Gen, Swordfighting, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, a bit of fantasy violence, but it all takes place in the imagination so no real danger, heights, some mentions of gore and death and innuendo because remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Kedavra/pseuds/Avery_Kedavra
Summary: Roman's had a terrible, no-good, very bad day. And the last thing he wants is Remus barging into his room, refusing to leave, and challenging him to a duel.Still, it could be a way to let off some steam--and to succeed atonething today.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70
Collections: Sanders Sides 2020 Gift Exchange





	But I Just Love to Pick a Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I return, bearing gifts! For the @sanderssidesgiftxchange on Tumblr, I was assigned @fandima, and wrote them some platonic Creativitwins bonding! I hope you like it, Aven, and have a wonderful holiday!
> 
> (Title is from This is Love by Air Traffic Controller. Find me on Tumblr at @averykedavra!)

Remus entered the room as he usually did--with more noise than strictly necessary. The door banged off the wall, banged back into the frame, swung wild again, and teetered to a stop with several dents in the side. Remus hovered in the doorway for a moment as if he was a vampire and needed permission to enter.

Roman groaned and covered his head with his pillow. “Go away.”

Apparently that was enough of an invitation. Remus bounded into the room and snatched the pillow away from Roman. Roman swatted at it. Remus held it out of reach triumphantly.

Roman grabbed another pillow and tugged _that_ one over his head.

“Hey!” Remus complained. He wiped something icky and slimy over Roman’s pillow and cackled when Roman yelped. Roman threw the pillow at Remus’ laughing face and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Come _on!”_ Remus whined, tugging at the blanket. Roman curled up in as small of a ball as possible. “Ro-bro, why are you ground-hogging the blankets?”

Despite himself, Roman peeked out of the top. “What, you want to steal my blanket?”

“No, I want you up and at ‘em!” Remus gleefully yanked the blankets off the bed. Roman grabbed at them and tried to hold them still.

“I’m busy,” Roman forced out, inching the blankets out of Remus’ hands.

“With what, sulking?” Remus gave a wild tug on the blanket that almost pulled Roman off the bed. “You’re all boring when you’re like this. What’s so important about brooding like a miser?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Roman snapped, bristling in the cold of no blanket and the sudden feeling of being judged. He’d expected a long afternoon of doing absolutely nothing and feeling vaguely guilty and miserable. Now he had to _socialize?_ With his _brother_ , no less, who probably fed off misery and disappointment like some sort of cryptid?

“Well, yeah, I don’t, that’s the point.” Remus paused in his assault on Roman’s blanket, putting one hand on his hip. “Like, you could be doing _anything_ right now. Or _anyone_. And you’re just gonna bury yourself in the ground like a headless ostrich?”

Roman blinked. “A headless one? Don’t they stick their heads in the sand?”

“Yeah, but you’re like, sticking your whole self in there.” Remus tilted his head. “You’re the _head_ of an ostrich. Just a head. Rolling around, eyes gaping--”

“Ew!” Roman tore the blanket from Remus’ grip. Remus immediately latched onto the other end. His fingers left greasy stains on the surface and Roman tried not to wince. “Leave me _alone_ , Remus.”

“You can’t seriously just want to _stay_ here,” Remus complained. “Like, talk to someone! Do something! You’re all boring when you’re just a lump, you little headless ostrich, come on--”

“Leave me alone!” Roman repeated, louder, as if he could yell Remus into submission. It wouldn’t work. Nothing ever worked. “I’m _busy_.”

“Yeah, busy _moping._ ‘Cause what, you don’t have any ideas? You’re not gonna get them in your _bed--_ ”

Roman pulled at the blanket. “It’s not your _business_ what I do!”

Remus pulled back. “It’s my business if my brother is stinking up the place with all your _blah_ energy--”

“Well, _leave!”_

“I wanna make you feel less like crap!”

“Good!” Roman pulled on the blanket as hard as he could. “Then _leave_ , ‘cause you’re actively making my day _worse!”_

The blanket ripped in half. Remus stumbled backwards, half of it in his hands, and Roman pulled the other torn half over himself. It barely covered him. He’d have to summon a new one, and right now, he did _not_ have the energy. He rolled over in bed, stared at his wall, and pretended Remus wasn’t standing silently behind him.

Maybe Remus would dump paint over his head. Maybe Remus would yell at him. Maybe--Roman barely dared to hope--Remus would leave.

That idea made him feel a strange mixture of relief and guilt.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and tried to fall asleep.

“Fight me.”

Roman blinked his eyes open again. After a few seconds of silence, he rolled over. “What?”

“Fight me,” Remus said again, like he was asking for a pencil.

“Are you--” Roman stared at him. “Is this some sort of revenge?”

“What? No!” Remus looked affronted. “What, can’t I bond with my dearest brother through extreme violence?”

Roman groaned loudly. “If I fight with you, for, like, five minutes, will you leave me alone afterwards?”

“No promises!”

“Then no.”

“Aw.” Remus pouted. “Pwease?”

“Shut up.”

“I refuse.”

“Ugh!” Roman tossed his blanket aside and stood up, cracking his back and leveling Remus with a stare. “If I fight with you, _will you leave?”_

“I follow no rules of man!” Remus paused and shrugged. “Sure, fine, whatever, I guess. Only one way to find out!”

“Fair enough,” Roman admitted. He kicked the pillows aside and stretched his arms. “What kind of fight?”

“Classic?” Remus suggested. His mace appeared in his hand. He twirled it a few times and it melted into a long sword blade with a green hilt and a jagged edge. He leaned on it, grinning and leaving scratches in Roman’s floor. Roman decided not to comment on the ruining of his floorboards, instead summoning his own sword. Perfectly balanced, wrapped in red leather over the hilt, and practiced at slaying foes that wouldn’t leave Roman alone.

“Classic,” Roman agreed, and found himself grinning.

The bedroom folded away from them. The torn blanket vanished. The floors spread and burst into grass, and the walls became glittering chunks of marble, left over from a castle long ago. The sun beat down on them just hot enough to be noticed, the grass pricked at their feet, and the wind rustled Roman’s hair.

Honestly, Roman had missed this.

“On three?” Remus called, slipping into a fighting stance a few feet away, sword flashing in the sun.

“Sure,” Roman called back. He took a deep breath, then another, then held out his sword. “Three?”

“Two-poo.”

“One.”

“Zero!”

Roman wasn’t sure who moved first, but then they were a foot away, and then Remus’ sword came straight for his chest.

Roman dodged and met it with his own. The blades clashed with the sound of thunder. Remus grinned wildly, and the sword was flying at Roman again, silver and fast as lightning.

Roman’s instincts worked for him. He parried, ducked, and weaved. Remus grabbed his hand and forced it back, and Roman twisted out of his grip. He wasn’t getting pinned down. Not this early on.

Roman slashed at Remus. Remus deftly leaped out of range. Before Roman could do anything, Remus swung at his knees. Roman stumbled back. Remus stepped forward, and the grass rippled beneath them.

“Boring,” Remus complained as Roman pulled himself upright.

“You’re boring,” Roman fired back, stabbing at Remus’ shoulder.

Remus parried. “Stupid comeback, bro.”

“I’m a bit distracted.” Roman slipped a leg around Remus’ and tried to topple him. Remus’ leg severed itself from his body, dropped uselessly to the ground, and flopped angrily. Remus hopped to the left and another leg bubbled into existence.

“Ew!” Roman complained.

“Fair play!” Remus declared.

“ _Gross_ fair play,” Roman said, avoiding the gooey remains of the leg. “Fight like a normal person, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t ask for Pocket Protector to fight you, right?” Remus laughed and slashed at Roman’s face. Roman stepped to the side. “You asked for me.”

“Nah, you asked, I just acquiesced out of the goodness of my heart.” Roman kicked out and managed to get Remus off-balance. He slashed at the left, feinted to the right, and stepped on Remus’ foot. Remus stumbled. “And because I really wanted to attack your stupid face.”

“Not very chivalrous of you,” Remus teased, falling to the ground.

“You’re a villain, I’m dispatching you.” Roman leveled his sword at Remus’ chest. Remus just beamed up at him, as if he wasn’t losing the battle as they spoke. “I’m doing what I’m meant to do.”

“Hmm.” Remus raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s shake things up a little, alright? Change the terrain.”

The grass sunk into the ground, and the sun went suddenly dark, leaving Roman achingly cold.

The next second, the crumbled castle walls were rising, pushing through the dirt and spiraling towards the cloudy sky. Roman watched as a ceiling patched itself together, girders and beams spilled across the room, and walls tore themselves into shape. The floor bent and steadied, moss and damp bled through the stones, and the castle steadied around them--an old, grey monstrosity, dripping with age, crammed with rotting wood and the smell of decay. Roman and Remus stood in the center of the room, beneath a rotted chandelier, and Remus had gotten to his feet with a grin.

“This is _your_ side of things,” Roman complained. “You can’t just make an advantage--”

“Didn’t see you complaining when you were in your favorite sunny bit,” Remus said, twirling his sword. “Don’t I get a turn?”

Roman sighed. “Not that it will make a difference, you know.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t bet on it.” Remus kicked aside a rotted piece of what might have been the banquet table. “You wanna start now, or--”

Roman stepped forward, sword leveled. “No reason to wait.”

“Wonderful!” Remus’ smile stretched even wider, and he kicked off the piles of wood, running towards the stairs. “Try and catch me!”

“Hey!” Roman complained. “You can’t just _run_ , you coward--”

“Can and am!” Remus reached the first step of the stairs and began to climb further into the castle. “Keep up, bro!”

Roman allowed himself a second to curse his brother and everything else around them. Then he began to run after Remus, reaching the stairs and taking them two at a time.

They spiraled. They twisted and spiraled, and Roman could vaguely hear Remus running ahead of him, but he had no idea how close together they were. His feet slipped on the sunken stairs and his elbows bumped the sides. He was already running out of breath. By the cursed eyes of Medusa, why had Remus chosen to play cat-and-mouse?

“You’re so slow,” Remus called from somewhere above. “Slow-poke, chicken, coward--”

“Stuff it!” Roman complained, trying to run faster. “I’m not the one who hid in a castle to avoid getting their booty kicked--”

“You’re just jelly ‘cause I’m winning!” There was the loud sound of a door hitting the wall. “Hasta la vista!”

Roman swore colorfully and forced himself around a few more bends. A door hung open in the wall, leading to a darkened hallway. No sign of Remus.

Had Remus just opened the door to throw Roman off? No, that involved brainpower that Remus rarely possessed. Besides, how big could the castle be? Roman slipped through the door and ran down the hallway, empty rooms staring at him like eyes. The only sound was his footsteps, loud and scattered on the stone, and the whisper of wind.

“Where are you?” Roman asked, giving in.

No answer.

“Remus, come on!” Roman tried to think. What would lure him out? “Look, I don’t want to make this too easy on me, but--”

There was a distant giggle, followed by “Heh, you said butt.”

“Got you!” Roman declared triumphantly. He sped past the final rooms--and reached the end of the hallway, with no stairs or doors in sight. A small window looked over a bleak moor that rippled like the ocean and clouds that shuddered in chunks of steely gray. Roman looked back down the hallway. Everything was motionless.

Except for a door, which swung slowly back and forth.

Remus could never open doors quietly.

Roman grinned.

The room was empty. A bed rested against the wall, rotted through and showing springs. An empty portrait frame hung on the opposite wall. No footprints--but the window was slightly ajar.

Roman crept closer, and in one motion, threw it open.

Nothing.

He poked his head out and looked down. It was a dizzying drop to the ground, lined with stones and boarded-up windows. There was no sign of Remus.

Something wet dropped into Roman’s hair.

“Ew!” Roman yelled. He swiped at it, and his hand came away covered in spit.

Slowly, Roman looked up.

Remus grinned at him, clinging to the wall a few feet from his head.

Ugh.

“ _There_ you are,” Roman complained. “How am I supposed to--”

“Figure it out!” Remus blew a raspberry at him and scuttled a few feet higher. “Unless you’re gonna be a boring ostrich-head and stay down there? You gotta vanquish the villain.”

“I’m going to--” Roman sighed and stepped onto the windowsill. He teetered there for a second, winds whipping his hair, and reminded himself firmly that he couldn’t get hurt in the imagination. Then he hesitantly placed one hand on the stones, slipped his sword into its scabbard, and wriggled to the very end of the windowsill.

“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.” Remus scrunched his nose and then he kicked off the stones and climbed upwards, easily, as if they weren’t both fifty feet above ground.

Roman stepped onto a loose, crumbled bit of stone. It shifted under him, and he grabbed onto the wall for dear life. Above him, Remus snickered.

“I’m going to--” Roman threatened again, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence. He’d known some good threats, but those all worked better on solid ground, when he wasn’t inching his way up a stone wall. “You’re such a _jerk_.”

“You agreed to fight,” Remus said in a sing-song voice, still feet above Roman. Roman climbed faster, kicking off the rocks. Remus probably had some power right now, in his area of the imagination--the winds seemed to buoy him, pushing him along. As for Roman? He felt three seconds from losing his grip and plummeting to the ground.

He’d be fine, of course. But it was the principle of the thing! He’d _never_ lost a fight to Remus, or at least a fair one, and he wasn’t about to start now.

The walls were narrowing. Roman risked a peek upwards and saw Remus scampering over the lip of a tower. Clouds scudded past, and the ramparts and parapets climbed their way into the sky, and Roman swore the whole castle was shifting slightly in the wind.

He dug his fingers into the stone and kept climbing.

It took almost half a minute for him to reach the lip. It was the edge of a tower, crenellations circling an open platform. Roman crawled between two blocks of stone and tumbled to his feet on top of the tower. Remus sat on the edge, swinging his feet back and forth, giving Roman that infuriating grin.

Roman opened his mouth to issue a challenge or a brave declaration. All that came out was a wheeze. He grabbed the edge of one crenellation and struggled to catch his breath. His muscles felt like rubber.

“Yikes, bad climb?” Remus asked. “Didn’t know you were such a wimp.”

Roman glared at him between deep breaths. “Direct thy feet to where thou and I henceforth may never meet.”

“What?”

“Screw off.”

“No can do, bro-bro!” Remus laughed. “You chased me all the way up here, right? You want to say hi to this beautiful face.”

“Yes, and stab it,” Roman said, drawing his sword. “Why did you make this such a chase--you’re a _cheater!”_

“There aren’t any rules, so I can’t break ‘em!”

“Not how it works.”

“Beg to differ.” Remus shrugged. “Besides, keeping you busy helped my _real_ plan.”

Roman stared at him warily. “Which...is?”

Remus winked. “It’s been five minutes already, Ro-bro.”

Oh. _What?_

“Thanks for telling me,” Roman said slowly, “so I can leave already, having wasted all our time. _How_ does this benefit you?”

“It wasn’t a waste!” Remus protested. “I got to spit in your hair.”

Roman winced. “Don’t remind me.”

“And it got you all riled up.” Remus’ grin widened. “Now tell me--are you _really_ gonna end the fight now? No. No, you’re not. Which means I got extra fight time with you, which means my plan worked.”

Roman tried to think through that logic. There were several bits that didn’t make sense--like why Remus _wanted_ to spend time with him--but Roman decided to focus on the main thing. “Why do you think I’d _willingly_ stay longer?” he asked. “Time’s up, I’m not entertaining you anymore.”

“Oh, you _wish_.” Remus leered. “What, you’ll just leave the fight unfinished? Leave me, the big bad wolf, here to terrorize the woods? Not very heroic of you.”

“As if,” Roman said, pretending Remus’ words didn’t needle at his skin. “You couldn’t hurt a pixie, and if you _did_ , it’s not my problem. I don’t need to bother with defeating you when you’re absolutely harmless.”

“Harmless,” Remus repeated. He tilted his head to the side. Something flashed through his eyes, quicker than the clouds flying past and colder than the wind. “So I’m not a threat? So you could just-- _win_ , every time, just like that?”

“Of course,” Roman said. “Good triumphs over evil.”

“Yeah, but what if it _doesn’t?”_ Remus asked. “What if you lose? What happens then?”

Roman gripped his sword tightly. “I wouldn’t.”

“And how do _you_ know?”

“I do!”

“You’re the expert, then? You know how the story goes?” Remus laughed and waved a hand. “Look around, bro. We’re in _my_ territory. No rules.”

Something cold and sharp was in Remus’ voice. And something hot and bright was glowing in Roman’s chest. The frustration of the long climb, the irritation at his brother’s presence, the guilt and desperation of his long morning--ideas crumpled in his notebook, friends snapped at, deadlines missed, and eventually deciding to hide in his blankets and ignore the world until the sickening feeling in his stomach went away.

And it had. It had, for just a second--or perhaps it had just slipped away, and now it was back in full force, a knot of ugly snarled anger that sat in Roman’s chest and made his knuckles grow white on his sword.

Remus was laughing. To Remus, this was all a game--and maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it had never been.

Maybe Roman couldn’t risk finding out.

“You’ll lose,” Roman forced out. “You always do, I don’t need to test it again--”

“Will I?” Remus leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Only one way to find out.”

Roman opened his mouth to ask if Remus was ready. To count down.

Remus grinned back.

Roman closed his mouth and swung his sword.

From the widening of Remus’ eyes, he hadn’t expected that. Roman felt a thrill of satisfaction at finally getting the upper hand, finally being the one changing the game. Remus barely dodged. Roman’s sword struck the stone, and he changed course as fast as he could. Remus leapt to the nearest crenellation and poked his sword in Roman’s direction. Roman parried easily, twisted his hilt under Remus, and sent Remus’ sword skittering across the stone.

Remus blinked. Roman paused, frozen like the stone beneath them, because Remus was _unarmed_. That meant Remus could hop down and grab his sword without Roman interfering. It wasn’t a fair fight otherwise.

It was never a fair fight.

What did Roman gain by fighting fair?

He swept his sword towards Remus’ chest.

Remus leapt out of the way. Roman chased after him, sword flashing in the light, and Remus jumped from stone to stone. He balanced so easily on the edge of the castle. He was laughing, still, and a flash of anger leapt through Roman. Roman was going to _win_. Remus should be _scared_.

“Missed me,” Remus called when they’d done a full circuit of the tower, Roman planting his feet on the inside, Remus dancing on the edge. Roman growled and leaped up to the edge himself, pausing to steady his feet against the wind, and leveled his sword at Remus’ eyes.

“Stand and fight,” Roman said.

“I don’t have a sword?”

“Stand and lose, then.” Roman swept his sword towards Remus’ legs. Remus kicked out and stumbled back. Roman chased him a few steps around the tower, jumping over the gaps between stones, feeling the wind at his back and watching Remus’ eyes gleam.

Roman stabbed at his chest. Remus just managed to dodge.

“Ease up, bro.” Remus laughed. Always laughing, always smiling, and why did _Remus_ get to be the carefree one? Why did the _villain_ get to be happy? That wasn’t how it was supposed to _work_. “Let me get my mace, hold on--”

“No,” Roman said. “You agreed to classic.”

“I’m bending the rules.”

“You’re not.”

“Uh, can you stop me?” Remus held out his hand and something shimmered mid-air. “I’m grabbing my mace, I’m not letting you cut me down without a weapon--”

Roman stepped closer and slashed at Remus’ hand. Remus pulled it back to his chest. “Why, because you’d lose?”

“Because it’s no fun?” Remus looked confused. “There’s no fun fighting if I can’t fight back--”

But it wasn’t about fun right now. Roman’s hand shook on his sword and he was teetering on the edge of the castle and he wasn’t about to lose to something _else_ today.

“You dragged me into this fight,” Roman said, slashing his sword. “You--you force me into this, and now you want me to let you win?”

“Well, let me put up a fight!” Remus was getting closer to the edge of the tower now, staring at Roman with growing incomprehension. “Dude, what’s up _your_ butt--you agreed to do this!”

“Yes, because you wouldn’t _leave!”_ Roman yelled, running at Remus. “You never leave me _alone--_ ” He stabbed at Remus’ chest. “You never _listen_ to me--” He slashed at Remus’ shoulder. “You waltz into my room on a _terrible day_ and remind me that _you_ never have bad days--” He backed Remus further towards the air. “--that you’re so happy and _perfect_ and whatever, and _I’m_ the one who screws up, and _I’m_ the one who loses, and if _I’m_ the hero, I can’t--you shouldn’t be--”

“I wanted to--” Remus looked upset. _Finally_. He looked upset and he didn’t look _scared_ yet, but if Roman pushed him a little further, maybe he would-- “I wanted to help--”

“ _You_ wanted to--” Roman almost laughed. He drove his sword as close to Remus as he could, and Remus just managed to dodge. “ _You’re_ not the one who helps. _I_ am. And--and I’m always gonna be the one, we can’t change the rules in the middle of things--”

“Roman, can you--”

Roman stepped closer to Remus. “Shut up.”

“Roman!” Remus said sharply.

“Shut _up!”_

“Roman--”

“Shut up!” Roman yelled. “And leave me _alone--_ ”

He bolted at Remus.

Remus dodged, as always.

And Roman’s foot slipped on the edge.

There was one second--less than that, the space between heartbeats--where he knew what was going to happen. He could see himself losing his balance, falling past Remus, slipping over the side--

And it wouldn’t be the end. He couldn’t die, he’d just hit the ground and get a bit of an ache. He’d just--he’d just fall.

He’d just fall, and he’d know it was because he’d messed up again, because he’d _failed--_

He’d just fall.

And Remus would win.

And--

And a hand grabbed his arm.

Remus hauled him back onto the tower.

Roman blinked at him. Remus’ hand was tight around Roman’s forearm. The sword slipped from Roman’s fingers and plummeted to the bottom of the tower, disappearing somewhere among the stones. Roman barely found himself caring. He was still staring at Remus, who stared right back--and for a second, Roman was _sure_ Remus looked scared.

But not scared of Roman. Scared for him.

“Um--” Roman swallowed. “I’m good, bro. You can let go.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, stepping back. His eyes were still wide. “We should--get down from here?”

“Yeah,” Roman agreed.

The wind swept around them, and the stones crumbled, and they were standing back in Roman’s room. The torn blanket was lying on his bed. The red walls gleamed in the late afternoon light, and the piles of unfinished ideas rested on his desk, and Remus was standing in the middle of it all, looking his special brand of out-of-place. Like Remus was torn out of a magazine and pasted into Roman’s room. Remus didn’t belong--and he showed up anyway, all the time. Roman could force him out, but he’d show up again soon enough, like a parasite. An ugly weed.

A brother.

Roman let out a long breath and sat on the edge of his bed. “You can leave. Fight’s over.”

“Huh?” Remus blinked. “Oh. Um--yeah, I guess.”

He made no move to leave. Roman made no effort to make him.

“That was--” Remus’ voice was oddly quiet. “Um--”

“We’ll call it a tie, huh?” Roman laughed a bit. “Definitely went off the rails.”

Remus shrugged. “You beat me at first.”

“And then I almost fell off the castle tower,” Roman finished.

“Eh, winds, could have happened to anyone.”

“Are you saying I win?”

“You always win, right?”

Roman watched Remus carefully. Remus cracked his knuckles, back, and shoulders. He wasn’t looking at Roman.

“The fight’s a tie,” Roman said slowly. “Right?”

“Sure,” Remus said. “Yeah. Whatever.”

For a long time, they were silent.

“I should go,” Remus finally blurted out. “Um--I’ll leave you to your thoughts?”

Roman sucked in a breath and let it out. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome? I’ll hurry out, then.”

“No, thanks for--” Roman waved a hand, curling into himself. “Catching me, I guess.”

“You would’ve been fine.”

“I know. But...still.” Roman glanced up at Remus. “It was nice of you.”

Remus looked a bit alarmed. “Um--okay. If you say so. Wouldn’t be a fun fight if you went all splat.”

“Wouldn’t be a fair one, either.” Roman sighed. “I--shouldn’t have yelled at you, huh?”

“Why not?” Remus shrugged. “You do all the time.”

“I suppose, but--” Roman didn’t know how to articulate anything that was swirling in his chest. He just knew he ought to try. “It wasn’t very chivalrous. Or nice.”

“Sounded like you needed to get it out, though.” Remus did a little shimmy. “I can be your punching bag! That punches back! And has a big--”

“Stop,” Roman said, trying not to laugh. “I’m trying to apologize, you jerk.”

“And _I’m_ trying to say, no apology necessary.” Remus’ smile softened into something almost--fond. “You’re alright, bro. Always have been.”

Roman fought down the instinctive whisper of _don’t let your guard down_ , and smiled back.

And of course got hit with a water balloon.

“Hey!” he spluttered, as cold water dripped down his face. “How did you--”

“Gotcha!” Remus cackled. “Just be glad it’s water--probably.”

“Ew!” Roman exclaimed, jumping up and wiping at his clothes. “You--ugh, I take it all back. I _hate_ you.”

“Aw, thanks!” Remus leapt gleefully out of range as Roman swiped at him. “Anyway, I’ll be doing some more interesting things now--are you gonna dive back into bed?”

Roman paused and thought about it. “I’m actually--really energized now. Might give the ideas another shot.”

Remus muttered something like “Told you.” When Roman looked over, Remus just grinned.

“I could take one of the bits from earlier, mash it up with--” Roman tapped his fingers together before racing over to his desk. “Okay, this is gonna take some work, but I think I can--if I--”

“Good for you,” said Remus, making Roman jerk his head up. “Glad you’re back on track.”

“Um, yeah,” Roman said, a small smile flickering onto his face. “Yeah, I think this could actually work.”

“Great! Then my job here is done.” Remus sauntered over to the door. “Fare thee well, oh brother of mine--”

“Wait!” Roman blurted out.

Remus twisted his head around with a crack.

“Um--” Roman glanced between Remus and the door. “You’ll--you’ll probably break my door all the way through, don’t go near it.”

“If it can’t handle a little Remus, it’s not a keeper.”

“Don’t touch my door.” Roman sighed. “Just don’t touch it.”

“How do I leave, then?”

“Well--” Roman looked at his ideas, then back at Remus. “I suppose you’re stuck here, then. And I _suppose_ , if you’re at a loss for what to do, you could--help me out with these ideas?”

Remus blinked at him. “You want me to--what?”

“Just out of necessity,” Roman said quickly. “I don’t _want_ you around, of course, but if--if I _had_ to, I could deal--”

Remus stared at Roman for a few seconds. Then his face split into a huge smile, and for once, Roman found he didn’t mind one bit.

“What’re we working on?” Remus asked, tossing himself onto the bed and fiddling with the remains of Roman’s blanket. “Fairytale stuff? Classic?”

“Hmm. I was thinking we could mix it up, actually.” Roman pulled out a few pieces of paper, uncapped a pen, and leveled it at Remus. “How do you feel about science fiction?”

“Ooh, tell me more,” Remus said. “Aliens?”

“Sure!”

“Aliens that are, like, really hot?”

“Maybe not!”

Remus didn’t seem deterred. “Black holes that make your insides mush?”

“You know what, I’ll keep that in mind!” Roman tossed Remus some paper. “We’ve got a deadline soon, so let’s keep at it.”

“We’ll be alrighty!” Remus promised. “Two heads are better than one! Two ostrich heads, rolling around in the dust--”

Roman snickered. “Shut up.”

“Never.” Remus leaned forward. “So about those black holes--”

And they were off, talking over each other, almost falling onto the floor in excitement--and it was late, and Roman had a million ideas that hadn’t worked, and maybe all theirs would come to nothing too--but it was another chance. Another shot. The day wasn’t over yet, and they weren’t all out of ideas, and if they changed the game just a bit, they’d figure something out.

Roman leaned back in the sunlight and smiled.

It wasn’t fair that it was so hard. That they had to fight for a good idea. That some days left Roman in a blanketed heap, or balanced on the edge of a tower, one wrong step away from plummeting.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

But honestly, in the end, it was _way_ more fun.


End file.
